


Dollification

by forgottenarchives



Series: DofCora collection [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Corsetry, Crossdressing, Dollification, Drugged Sex, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Objectification, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:06:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgottenarchives/pseuds/forgottenarchives
Summary: Doflamingo is too old to be playing with dolls.
Relationships: Donquixote Doflamingo/Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante
Series: DofCora collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996441
Comments: 9
Kudos: 79





	Dollification

**Author's Note:**

> 🤡

Doflamingo has never been gentle. Rocinante doubts he knows how, and he isn’t being gentle now. 

Rocinante is spread wide with his legs slung over either side of the high backed chair Doffy set him on. Roci's skirts are bunched up at his waist and Doffy’s hands clinging to him as he fucks into him. 

“Such a pretty doll.” 

Rocinante’s stomach turns at the pet name. One of the more grotesque aspects of this doll play Doflamingo insists on is the decorations at Roci’s joints. He’s drawn them on, like hinges, crude but they feed the beholder’s fantasy that they might be real. 

Whatever was in those pills Doffy forced down his throat earlier have left him loose and lax, perfectly pliant as his brother arranges him how he sees fit. That string power of his is terribly useful for holding Roci in place. Having his skirts hiked up to expose him to the world and spread wide for easy access is bad enough on its own but Rocinante cannot move.

He can’t decide if it would be better if he was chained down rather than being so drugged he’s catatonic. At least then he could pretend to have a modicum of dignity left. Instead, all he can do is lie there with his head lolling back, waiting to be used. 

For all Roci knows they could have had an audience, or they might have been perfectly alone. He can’t even lift his head to look. 

Even if Rocinante wasn’t drugged out of his mind he still would have found it challenging to move with how tight the corset is, holding his ribs in and forcing the air from reaching his lungs. 

It’s too much. Doffy’s blunt nails digging in and leaving crescent shaped marks on Roci’s marred skin, then he tugs on the baby pink leather of the garters he has been dressed in. 

The bright pink garters are buckled tight, cinched into the fat and muscle of his thighs, holding up the pink stockings Doflamingo lovingly tugged over his feet and smoothed up his calves. Being dressed by his brother was horribly intimate and Rocinante had no choice but to accept the broad palms roaming over his scarred body, cinching the bright pink corset as tight as it would go around, tugging a dress onto him and tying ribbons into his hair. 

“My pretty girl,” Doffy had said when he was done dressing Rocinante. It was terrifying to hear him say. 

The corset is pulled impossibly tight to give him a false silhouette of a pinched waist and wider hips. Doflamingo lays his hands on Roci’s shaped waist, rubbing his hands up and down Roci’s sides. Everything is trimmed with delicate white lace at odds with how painful the outfit is to wear, and the look is topped off with a delicate lace choker and lace cuffs. All he’s missing is bloomers but his brother would never allow underwear to hinder access to his body.

Roci thinks the outfit might look nice on literally anybody else, someone who wanted to wear a dress and be able to fill it out without the need for shaping garments that cut into his waist and make his ribs ache with each shallow breath. How much has Doffy thought about this, about doing this? Rocinante wouldn’t know where his brother found the dress or the accessories to match. 

It should hurt more, Rocinante thinks distantly. It’s like all his sensations are covered by a filmy gauze. He can still *feel*, but it’s like it is happening to someone else. The body holding him down and moving against him, inside him, isn’t real. 

This can’t be happening.

Doflamingo runs his hands over Roci’s chest, swiping at the fabric where Roci lacks a bust for his brother to grope and fondle. Rocinante can see himself in the reflection of Doflamingo’s glasses, the leering orange frames hiding his brother’s eyes. What he sees is messy. He looks away. 

Roci can do little more than garble his complaints, crying out occasionally, barely able to form words in his mind let alone speak them out loud. His tongue is too thick and his jaw too heavy, and there’s not enough air in his lungs. Forming words seems like an impossible task. It’s hard enough focusing on what’s happening around him, to him, every touch sending dull skitters of electricity down his spine, muted but warming him somewhere deep inside. Any pleasure he gains is entirely accidental and of his own doing, unless Doflamingo takes it upon himself to play with his body. 

Roci’s head flops back with the force of Doflamingo’s hips driving into him, unable to control his own body. He looks up at the ceiling with dazed eyes, unable to focus on the swirling lines of the ceiling pattern. It seems so high up, so far away. Rocinante wishes he were far away. 

Doffy stops his selfish actions for a moment and rights Roci’s head up so he can look down the lines of his brother's body to the frills and lace covering where he can feel Doffy’s cock driving into him. 

“Roci, Roci.”

Doflamingo pants against his mouth, hands on his hips tightening and Doffy’s thrusting growing more frantic as he nears his release. 

Roci’s mouth is slack when Doflamingo kisses him, long tongue slithering out and dipping into Roci’s ruby lips, rubbing against his unresponsive tongue. 

Rocinante can’t move, can’t complain, can hardly breathe with the air in his lungs being punched out of his chest with every deep thrust of his brother’s cock deep in his ass. 

Doflamingo takes his pleasure without regard for his brother. 

He can’t even move to cover himself when Doflamingo groans hotly in his ear, emptying his balls deep inside. He follows up with sloppy kisses on Roci wherever he can reach, on his cheeks, on his mouth, on his throat. Rocinante feels his eyes slip closed when his brother pulls out. 

Roci cannot do a thing to stop the come slithering out of his well-fucked hole, thighs still spread wide. There will be hell to pay if it spoils his pretty dress or the plush upholstery. He cannot find it in himself to care. Being unable to control his own body is terrifying. Being completely at Doflamingo’s mercy moreso. 

Doffy’s hand drops to his dick, fondling him. He seems disappointed when he finds his brother flaccid. 

“You’re messing it up,” Doflamingo pauses and says with a frown, his thick finger swiping through blue stained tears on Roci’s cheek. 

He hadn’t even realised he was crying and now his eyeshadow is running. Doflamingo is still frowning down at him and Roci closes his eyes, waiting for his brother to strike him. 

Doffy worked so hard to apply the makeup on his face, using different brushes to apply the blue eyeshadow beneath his eye, and a pink rouge for his cheeks, and swiping cherry red lipstick over his lips. 

Rocinante lies still, working on twitching his fingertips while he waits for the haze at the corners of his vision to encroach so he can pass out, or fade, and with it the full force of what was done to him will catch up to him. Stepping into his room, being in his brother’s presence was a grave mistake and now Rocinante is trapped.

Rocinante tries to remember why he is here in Spider Miles. His brother is a monster but Rocinante could never have guessed it would be like this. 


End file.
